Toy Story
by UP2L8
Summary: "Can I help you?" Ed asked, with just a hint of 'let's get this over with' mixed in to his business tone to make it clear that he had better things to do than tall dark strangers. "I'm sure you can," Sex Voice answered, with just enough suggestive innuendo mixed in to make Ed want to punch him in the throat. "I'd like to speak to the manager."
1. Toy Story

Author's Note: It's been a while since I posted anything here. Let's give it a try. :)

"Excuse me, beautiful," the deep, sensual baritone purred, and as pleasing as that voice was to his ear, Ed defaulted to his usual response.

Without looking up from his textbook, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the sign he had typed up, printed off, and tacked to the wall behind the cash register ten minutes into his first shift on the job, some two months ago.

The sign advised, in bright red, 72 point Times New Roman, "The staff is not for sale. This is your only warning."

Mr. Sex Voice was quiet for a moment, presumably reading the sign. Or maybe he had been distracted by the artfully arranged selection of 11 inch squirting King Cocks, each sporting a little Santa hat on its 'head', displayed under the sign. Most people were.

When too much time had passed and he could feel the customer's eyes on him, Ed looked up with a scowl.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Strongly masculine of feature making him more handsome than pretty. Not freakishly tall, but taller than Ed, damn it. Casually dressed, but looking sharp all the same in gently faded blue denim and a dark blue Eddie Bauer bomber jacket. Age wise, Ed put him in the old enough to know better but young enough not to care category - late twenties to early thirties. Just Ed's type, except for the overconfident smirk. Ed was going to do his best to wipe that off before this asshole left the store. Just for kicks.

"Can I help you?" Ed asked, with just a hint of 'let's get this over with' mixed in to his business tone to make it clear that he had better things to do than tall dark strangers.

"I'm sure you can," Sex Voice answered, with just enough suggestive innuendo mixed in to make Ed want to punch him in the throat. "I'd like to speak to the manager."

Whoa, a new record. It usually took at least five minutes before a customer decided to make a complaint against him. This was, what, two? Less? Ed smiled with satisfaction, pleased that he had taken his obnoxiousness quotient to a new level. If nothing else, this job had been the ideal training ground for honing his inner brat.

A solid ninety percent of the customers who came through the doors of Pothos Boutique were normal, civilized people. Men and women, they came in either out of curiosity, or in hopes of finding something that might rev up their sex lives. It was the other ten percent, the ones that thought working in an adult toy store made you an easy target for their insecurities, who gave Ed the opportunity to poke figurative holes in a few douche bags just to see what might leak out. It was one of his unofficial duties, and he was more than happy to do it.

Working at Pothos wasn't the best job on the planet, but retail was retail. The wage was minimum and the hours long, but working at an adult novelty store was a surprisingly good fit for Ed. Anichka had been very reluctant to hire him, and as the only male employee he pulled all of the evening shifts, but that meshed with his schedule so he was fine with it. His female coworkers were relieved to have a man in the store on the late shift as well. His mere presence tended to keep most of the more aggressive patrons manageable, or so the ladies informed him, and that was better than regularly treating some handsy creep to a face full of insect repellant, though not nearly as ironic.

"The manager won't be in until 6," Ed said, glancing at the wall clock. Ten minutes. "Feel free to wait." Ed turned his attention back to his coursework.

And of course the man didn't wander around the store while he waited, checking out the merchandise like a normal customer. Nope. Sex Voice leaned against the counter, checking out Ed instead, though not overtly or rudely. Ed ignored him until he noticed that the asshole was trying to see what Ed was reading. Ed tipped the book to make it even more difficult for him to do so.

Anichka came in to the merry jingle of the brass door balls, and immediately locked eyes on Sex Voice.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mustang," she greeted, her lightly accented voice low and seductive. "You're early. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"Not at all, Ms. Ivanova. I've only just arrived," he returned, walking over with his hand extended.

Anichka shook it with a firm, two handed grip. "That's good," she said, holding Mustang's hand just little too long with a coy smile on her glossy lips. "I wouldn't want our first encounter to get off on the wrong foot. And please do call me Anichka. It is my hope that the arrangements between Pothos Boutique and Whispers will prove to be mutually satisfying."

Ed kept his snort internal. He could understand the attraction, but he'd never seen Ani on the hunt before. Mustang better watch out; Pothos' manager was one Belarusian cougar that would happily eat him alive.

The door balls jingled again and a nervous woman stepped inside from the cold, eyes widening as she took in the festively decorated inflatable love dolls straddling the Fetish Fever Love Lounger just inside. Ed got up to offer a warm and friendly greeting before she bolted right back out the door.

Within the course of half an hour, Ed learned that:

1) The woman's name was Rose;

2) She was 29 years old;

3) She had been happily married for three years to a guy named Cain;

4) Cain had been killed in a motorcycle accident two years ago;

5) Rose was currently in an intimate relationship with her minister, an older man who had helped her survive the crippling grief of losing the love of her life;

6) The preacher was currently having some trouble getting it up, and Rose thought that a little spice in the bedroom might help.

Bartenders and sex toy salespeople – they heard it all.

By catching bits of the conversation between Ani and Mustang, Ed had also learned that Pothos' owner had negotiated a deal with the high end, members only cabaret slash strip club owned by Mustang's aunt. If there was one thing Ed was good at – and there were quite a few things, actually – it was multitasking.

He'd also noticed that Mustang had been shooting glances his way while easily holding up his end of the conversation with Ani. Apparently Ed wasn't the only one practiced in the art of multitasking.

Rose left the store with some personal advice to talk to her partner about setting important boundaries before getting busy, and a decent bondage starter kit. Thank you Fifty Shades of Grey. While the books and subsequent movies were a pile of shit that likely set feminism back fifty years, which was unfortunate, they had been good for the adult novelty business – and probably for sick, abusive misogynists too, which was also unfortunate.

Ed returned to his textbook, but his attention was on Ani and Mustang as they discussed products and their pros and cons. Why would a strip club want to make a long term deal with a sex toy dealer? Sure, Pothos carried a fair selection of lingerie, and their wide variety of erotic role play costumes and accessories was pretty impressive, but didn't strippers buy their own equipment? Ed had heard rumors about the special services Whispers provided for their card carrying members. If they were true, then this made more sense. Not that Ed gave much of a shit, since rumor also had it that the club's employees spoke very highly of their boss lady.

"Edward," Ani said, interrupting his thoughts, "would you please fetch the box marked 'Whispers' from the back for Mr. Mustang?"

Ed nodded and lay his book aside once more, noticing that Ani's demeanor had gone from seductive to business friendly. She had obviously become aware that Mustang's preferences trended out of her range – probably when she had noticed him unobtrusively checking out Ed's ass in the dressing room mirror while he had been helping Rose with her purchases.

The small backroom held an assortment of boxes, but the one Ed was looking for was right on top of the stack by the door. It wasn't very large – about the size of a small microwave – and not very heavy. Returning to the showroom, he handed it over to Mustang.

"Thank you." The sex voice was back. Mustang even managed to brush Ed's hands as he took the box.

"Your hands are cold. Keep them to yourself."

Mustang did not let the rebuke discourage him. "Sorry," he said with a smirk, not sorry at all. "As our hopefully ongoing business relationship dictates, I will try to follow your expert advice. Or at least warm my hands in case I fail."

"That's pretty fancy talk for a guy holding a box of assorted dicks," Ed observed.

"That's a pretty astute observation for a guy selling them," Mustang returned, unfazed.

"Be sure to mention the employee discount to your staff," Ani cut in, probably for Ed's benefit. "I'm sure they will appreciate our fine selection of erotic attire."

"I'm sure they will," Mustang replied, and with a wink, finally turned those dark, smoldering eyes away. "Thank you, Ms. Ivanova."

"My pleasure, Mr. Mustang."

Business concluded, Mustang lingered, pretending to admire the mistletoe decorations hanging over the plexiglas cabinet where the Twerking Butt was on display. Anichka glanced at Ed with the same expression that he usually gave the girls on his shift when someone in the store was acting weird: the 'Do I need to ask him to leave?' look. Ed grinned and gave her a tiny shake of his head, just as Mustang seemed to come to a decision and turned abruptly towards him.

And crashed into the Christmas tree by the counter, tastefully garlanded with anal beads and decked out with Fleshlights and Lelo vibrators, knocking it to the floor. The beads and dildos bounced and scattered merrily, and the artificial vaginas and anuses of celebrated porn stars clattered and rolled to every corner of the store.

Mustang was a study in mortification. Ed just managed to stifle a bray of laughter. Anichka didn't.

"I'm so sorry!" Mustang crouched to gather up the scattered decorations.

Ed and Ani joined him.

"Don't worry about it," Anichka said, unable to wipe the wide grin from her face. "Ed and I can take care of this."

"No, it's my mess," Mustang said, rising to place a handful of beads on the counter and stand the tree back up.

It didn't take long for the three of them to set everything back in order. The whole time Mustang appeared to be on the edge of saying something to Ed, but didn't seem to know how to work it loose.

"What?" Ed's patience finally slipped.

Even Mustang's deer in headlights expression was attractive. Or more accurately, cute. He glanced at the sign behind the counter. The warning sign.

Ed growled. "What do you want?"

The man took a deep breath. "Coffee, actually." Mustang offered a hopeful smile. "I'd like to take you out for some. One day. Soon."

Huh. His sincere voice was somehow even more enticing than his sex voice.

But as tempting as it surprisingly was, there was no way Ed could accept the invitation. Al was in the hospital again, and when Ed wasn't at work, in the library, or on campus, that was where he needed to be. He was running on about three hours of sleep most days, and really couldn't spare the time. There was Ed's extensive collection of scars to consider as well. Sure, it was only coffee, but if it went well, there would be more coffee, and then dinner, and then other getting-to-know-you stuff, and at some point the clothes would be coming off, and Ed was just tired. It was too soon. His last relationship had been beyond a disaster, and he was still far too brittle to trust some guy he met in a sex shop, however attractive and charming he might be. Not even for coffee.

No, it wasn't worth the stress, ultimately. Ed needed to shut this Mustang guy down right now, in no uncertain terms. Tell him he wasn't interested, and make it stick. He opened his mouth.

"I'll think about it," is what came out.

Mustang beamed. Ed felt like kicking himself in the ass.


	2. All Sales Final

Chapter Summary: Sorry, no returns or exchanges. Because eww.

Roy parked his classic Mustang in the strip mall's parking lot and slid out of the driver's seat eager to accomplish his self-imposed mission.

It had been a week since Roy had first walked into Pothos Boutique, and he had deemed that plenty of time for the intriguing blond sex toy salesman to decide whether or not he would grace Roy with his presence for coffee. The Christmas rush was over. Boxing Day was a few days past. Surely the store wouldn't be too busy for Roy to corner the focus of his interest and sway him toward an informal date at the nearest Timmy's after his shift.

He should have known better.

The shop was extremely busy when Mustang looked in. Like most of the local businesses in the area, Boxing Day had expanded into Boxing Week, and who could have predicted that people would be this hot – so to speak - for a sex toy sale.

Edward was there, along with the manager and another saleswoman. All were engaged with customers, with a few more anxiously attempting to catch their attention.

Roy walked in anyway. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps he just wanted to admire the view.

Long, golden blond hair. Eyes an exotic match. On the short side, but well built, causally dress in dark jeans and a red hoodie sweatshirt with a large black snake and crucifix symbol on the back. Age wise, Roy put him in the old enough to be legal, but young enough not to be jaded category. Judging from his previous reading material – Gupta's _Classical Mechanics of Particles and Rigid Bodies_ was grad student material at least – Roy placed him in his mid twenties, though he looked much younger. Still, the young man held himself with a worldly confidence that seemed beyond his years – just Roy's type. He was a brat, but Roy could handle attitude. In fact, that fire was part of what attracted him in the first place.

In second place was that perfect ass. Roy didn't think he'd ever seen one finer.

Pothos manager noticed him standing just inside the door and gave him an apologetic smile. Roy returned it with a wink and a friendly grin. He hadn't known Anichka for very long but felt a tentative kinship. They had decorated a Christmas tree with adult novelties together after all. You couldn't say that about too many people in your life.

Roy walked farther into the busy shop, closing in on Edward. The tall blond man he was serving was hefting a rather large buttplug, tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other like a hot potato. By Roy's estimate, the damn thing had to be nearly 5 inches at its widest diameter. Just thinking about it made him wince.

"The AssMaster is the biggest we have, and it can be a bit intimidating," Edward was saying. "We also carry the AssServant. Still big, but it might be a better fit." He reached up to select a slightly smaller plug from the display and handed it over.

The customer now held a plug in each hand, eyeing them skeptically. "I like the Master," he said, "but you're the expert. I've never used one of these before."

Edward's face went completely blank. "You ever have _anything_ up there?"

"No," the customer admitted, uncomfortable. "Just, you know, fingers. So, what do you think? Servant? Master?"

"Holy shit, neither," Edward gritted. "You'd be better off getting started with an prostate massager."

Now the man looked slighted. "I can take it," he said with determination.

"It's not an endurance contest," Edward said testily. "It's supposed to feel good."

"Maybe endurance contests are what make me feel good." The customer was looking Edward dead in the eye for the first time.

Edward was silent for a moment, then grimaced. "Point taken. The Servant, then. You'll still have trouble walking, but at least you'll probably be able to."

The customer smiled, satisfied. "Sold."

"Now let's see about some toy cleaner, and definitely some lube."

The customer was reading the package. "Toy cleaner? It's supposed to be dishwasher safe."

Edward gave him the side eye. "Fine, so just the lube."

"Do I really need it?"

Edward was beyond expressing outrage at this point. "Unless you're into rupturing something and bleeding out from your asshole, yeah, you need it. Cooking oil isn't going to cut it, and on top of that it'll damage the plug."

That appeared to be a selling point the customer couldn't argue. "Oh. Okay. So. What's the best lube for this baby?" He patted the plug affectionately as he followed Edward to a display island in the centre of the store.

"Uranus." Edward was definitely playing him now.

"Excuse me?"

Selecting a sleek black bottle from the display, Edward held it up. "Not 'your anus'; Uranus."

The customer squinted at the label. "Oh," he said, sheepish. "I thought . . . never mind."

Roy had made no effort to catch his attention; nevertheless, he knew Edward had seen him but was ignoring him, hopefully just until he had finished with his customer. Which was imminent, as Edward led the man to the checkout counter to complete the transaction. Roy quickly stepped up to the counter as well in hopes of catching a few moments of his time before his next client. He had a plan that wouldn't involve unduly interrupting the store's busy staff and would hopefully earn him some brownie points.

But he was out of luck.

No sooner had the AssServant's proud owner stepped away from the counter, another man pushed past Roy and slammed down a plastic grocery bag. Roy wasn't the only one who jumped.

"This thing is a piece of shit," the man snarled into the sudden quiet of the store. "I want my money back."

Although the customer was at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than him, Edward did not appear in the least intimidated. In fact, his golden eyes almost glowed with anticipation for the impending confrontation.

"Check out your receipt," he said, all business. "No returns, no exchanges."

The man dumped the contents of the bag onto the counter. A crumpled receipt. Mangled packaging. Four double A batteries. And a dildo. Purple. With flexible spines along the shaft. That appeared to be attached to a purple plastic bear. At the crotch. It looked like some nightmare interpretation of a porcupine performing fellatio on a teddy bear rendered in cheap polypropylene. The only use Roy could imagine for this piece of junk would be to traumatize any child who might accidentally stumble upon it. Then again, who was he to judge?

"It doesn't work," the man spat. "You sold me a piece of shit."

The rest of Pothos' staff had converged on the counter while their customers hung back, some outright staring at the developing drama, some pretending not to.

"Yeah, I remember you." The saleswoman with dark brown hair dyed red at the tips moved around the counter to stand beside Ed, glaring. "You didn't want to wait for me to put the batteries in and make sure it worked. I wrote that on your receipt." She reached for the crumpled piece of paper.

The customer batted it off the counter. "Well now we know it doesn't work, bitch. I want my money back."

"I'll handle this Berta." Anichka was behind the counter now as well. "As is clearly stated on your receipt, we do not offer refunds or exchanges. Please take your purchase and leave, or I will call the police."

"Call them. I'm not leaving without my fucking money." The man rocked back on his heels and his lips curled into a challenging smirk.

Edward stepped in front of the two women. "Our manager has asked you to leave. I'd listen to her, if I were you."

"Who's gonna make me? You?" The man's smirk got wider. "The only way a shrimp like you can get me out of here is to give me my money back. Now make it quick; I don't got all day."

Edward's face had darkened to a scowl. "What did you just call me?" His voice was deadly quiet.

"Didn't hear me, runt?" The man leaned across the counter, looming over Edward. "Let me make myself clearer." His beefy hand flashed out toward the smaller blond, maybe to clench in Ed's collar, maybe not.

Roy had gradually moved until he was standing as close behind the irate customer as possible without calling attention to the fact, so he was in position to make a quick grab for him.

He wasn't quick enough.

In the blink of an eye, Edward had dodged, slammed the man's head down on the counter, leapfrogged him, and pinned him there with his arms twisted up behind his back.

"Who's so small he could use a condom for a sleeping bag?" Edward snarled into the struggling man's ear, eyes on _fire._ Then he yanked him up and frog marched him to the door.

Berta hurried over to opened it and held it wide with a cheerful smile, gesturing toward the sidewalk with a small bow.

"This store has an excellent video surveillance system," Anichka told the sputtering thug as Edward levered his captive past her. "Leave and don't come back, and I won't have to make the recording of your visit available to the police department."

Edward heaved the man outside. Berta tossed his well hung, non-returnable teddy bear after him. The douchebag took a moment to think it over, then stomped away. Anichka and her sales staff moved back to their respective customers. Roy just stood there, wondering if Edward could possibly get any hotter.

He also wondered how he could be so intensely attracted to someone he had only ever spoken to once.

Edward was gorgeous, that went without saying, but it was more than that. Maybe it was the way he had treated his customer the day Roy had met him, putting the young woman at ease, listening to her story, helping her to find just what she was looking for. And his advice as she was leaving, to make sure she knew how to stay safe. Endearing. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn't immediately fall for Roy's practiced charms. He seemed more enticed by sincerity than artifice. For Roy, that would be a challenge, and he did so love a challenge. And then there was Edward's fire. This was a man who blazed with conviction and self confidence. Roy had always been fascinated by open flames, wild and uncontrollable, mesmerizing.

And apparently, he was staring.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Edward snapped.

The future love of my life, Roy didn't say. "Someone in desperate need of a coffee," he said instead. He turned to Anichka and put his plan into action. "I was in the neighbourhood and wondered if I might treat Pothos' hard working staff to a Timmy's. Give me your order, and I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

That proposal was met with uncontested approval.

It looked like Roy would have to wait for another chance to ask Edward out, but that was fine. Some things were worth waiting for, and Roy was sure that spending time with Edward would turn out to be one of those things.


	3. Auld Lang Syne

Chapter Summary: Should auld acquaintance be forgot.

Eight o'clock in the evening, Thursday. The sun had long since set behind the cold winter horizon, and Edward, not for the first time, wondered just what he had done to deserve his dismal fate. He was tired, hungry, and at work. Which meant he would not be getting anything to eat anytime soon, would not be getting to sleep soon either, and he was at work. Worse yet, Al was still in the hospital, and probably would be for another week. Three days into the new year, and what was the big deal? Nothing had changed, nor was it likely to in the near future.

Happy New Year? Bullshit.

Jad Sahib had brought the stock order early that morning, but Berta hadn't bothered to so much as check over the packing slip let alone put up the stock, so now Ed and Becca were stuck with the task. To be fair, Berta had been alone on the early shift, and if the morning had been anything like the rest of the day, she'd probably been too busy.

It wasn't busy now, there were two of them, and this had to get done before they left. They had an hour until closing, and neither wanted to stay late. Ed took on the task of sorting and shelving the order while Becca checked it off on the packing slip, in between serving the odd customer.

The door balls jingled their merry tune and Ed looked up from his crouch, elbow deep in a box of assorted cock rings.

Speaking about odd customers . . .

Russell Tringham had walked into the store and immediately froze at the sight of Ed. As well he should. Ed hadn't seen him since he'd graduated from Porter High. Russ and his squad were the kind of assholes who thought it was fun to pick on people who couldn't fight back. They'd thought Ed fell into that category. They were wrong. A couple probably still had scars. It had been the most satisfying suspension Ed ever served. He broke out his widest barbwire grin.

Russ finally found his voice. "Hey Elric." He was trying for nonchalance, brushing that stupid flap of hair out of his eye just so it could fall back into the exact same position, but the way his eyes were darting around the store was a testament to his substandard acting skills. "You work here?"

A thousand possible answers crossed his mind in the split second it took Ed to respond. No, this cardboard box went into labour and I'm helping to deliver its cock ring babies. No, I'm the finalist in a cock ring stacking contest. No, I'm a customer. I always buy cock rings by the crate. The savings make it worth my while.

Standing up, he defaulted to, "Sure do. Can I help you?" And fuck those people who thought he couldn't be professional.

Tringham was staring at his chest, and Ed realized why. He was wearing his new and probably all-time-favourite-from-now-on sweatshirt.

A Christmas gift from Winry. Black, with large white lettering, it declared: Particle Physics Gives Me a Hadron. She had given it to him as a joke, probably never expecting him to wear it, let alone on the job. But really, she should have known better considering where he worked. Ed knew it was going to be a hit on campus too.

Russell's eyes drifted back to Ed's face, and he tried on a smirk. "I'd rather she helped me," he said, tilting his chin at Becca. "You're not my type."

Edward and Rebecca simultaneously pointed at the warning sign behind the cash register.

Russ read it, then held up his hands in mock surrender. "Geez, it was just a joke."

Given his preferred form of amusement had once involved picking on younger students, it was no wonder nobody found Russell particularly funny.

Becca stepped up to the task reluctantly. "So, what are you looking for? Something for yourself? Something for your partner?"

Russ shot a look toward Ed, who had gone back to sorting the stock order. "Um. My partner." He glanced over at the dildo wall.

Becca caught it and led the way.

Edward kept his attention on his task, not in the least interested in what good ol' Russ wanted or needed to get his rocks off. Legs crossed sitting on the floor, he couldn't help but hear some of Becca's side of the conversation, but Russell was speaking as quietly as possible, and Ed didn't really give enough of a shit to wonder. That's why he was surprised when Tringham suddenly rounded on him and glared across the store.

"I know what you're thinking Elric!" he shouted, furious. "And you can just shut the fuck up!"

Edward just stared. What the fuck?

"Yeah, that's right!" Tringham's face twisted with disgust. "Maybe I need a little help to keep things rolling, but at least I can get someone into my bed. Think I don't remember? Gym? The locker room? Most of us couldn't keep our eyes off you, and believe me, we tried. I've always wondered what could have left scars like that. It looked like you fell into a meat grinder. Who the hell would want to fuck that?"

Rebecca was standing open-mouth with shock, but her face quickly darkened with anger. "I think you need to leave," she said.

"I agree," a deep, confident, familiar baritone seconded that motion.

Ed hadn't even noticed the door balls chiming when Mustang had walked in. Under the circumstances he thought he could be forgiven the oversight.

"Yeah, when I'm done," Tringham said, glaring at the new arrival. "Gimme the cheapest vibrator you got. That pink butterfly thing will do."

"I don't think-"

"Forget it, Becca," Ed cut her off. "Sell him what he wants so he can get the hell out of here." Business was business, and he really didn't care enough about Russell's opinion of him to be affected by his words beyond the initial shock of the unexpected attack. It wasn't like he didn't know who Russell Tringham was. He certainly wasn't going to get into it with this asshole.

And he could feel Mustang close behind him. He turned to look.

He had always thought that the expression 'a sight for sore eyes' was ridiculous. Now? He kind of got it. Standing tall at Ed's back – only because Ed was still sitting cross-legged on the floor, obviously – stance relaxed but ready, dark eyes ice cold and locked on Tringham like gunsights. It gave Ed a strange feeling, like something coming loose in his chest, and the tight muscles of his jaw relaxed. He hadn't even noticed the tension. Ed's frown faded, making way for a small, involuntary smile.

At that exact moment Ed realized he was in big trouble. He was attracted. Seriously. He couldn't afford to be attracted.

It wasn't even because Mustang was hot as hell; it was so much more than that. The way he looked you straight in the eye when he spoke, cocky, sure, but easy going and with level respect. When Mustang had come into Pothos the first time, Ed had him pegged as an arrogant asshole – until he knocked over the Christmas tree. The fact that he stuck around to clean up the mess surprised Ed. His honest, hopeful smile when he'd invited Ed for coffee surprised Ed even more. The second time Mustang had come into Pothos was the day Ed had to physically boot an overly aggressive douchebag out of the store. Ed had waited until the douche made his move before shutting him down, just so he could claim self defence if he needed to. And he had seen Mustang closing in to back him up. When Ed's opponent had made his move, Mustang had tried to stop him.

Now here he was again.

In Ed's corner.

And apparently, Ed was staring. Mustang smirked and reached down, offering his hand. Ed ignored it and got to his feet.

Becca was ringing up the sale as fast as she could, but unfortunately, she couldn't move fast enough. Russell wasn't done with Ed yet. Whatever he imagined Ed to be thinking was ratcheting his temper up higher by the second. Apparently the 'incident' back in high school was still a sore point for somebody, and that somebody wasn't Ed.

"I guess you feel good now, huh Elric, finding out some personal stuff about me since you couldn't get me expelled from Porter." His lips twisted. "Arzen had to get his lip stitched. Genz' arm was in a cast for a month. All you got was a black eye. Nobody even mentioned expelling you."

"I guess four sixteen year olds ganging up on a twelve year old seemed a bit unfair to them. Unbelievable, right?" And that was enough. He really didn't want to get into it with this asshole.

"So that makes it alright for you to look down on me now? Planning on getting revenge? Spreading some rumours? Gonna make a Facebook post about my bedroom issues?"

It was hard to hold back. "Who the fuck do you think I am? You?" Ed asked coldly.

"Yeah, always so high and mighty," Tringham sneered. "Boy genius." A derisive snort. "You thought you were so much better than the rest of us. But now we know who's the better man, don't we?"

He really, really wasn't going to get into it with this asshole. "Yeah, I guess you got me beat. Congrats," Ed said carelessly.

"You better believe it. I got my BSc in Medical Technology and I'm working full time at my dad's lab as a certified technician, making good money," he said, smug grin firmly in place. "And you're a lonesome loser working in a sex shop. Do the math, genius." He took out his bank card and tapped it on the counter.

Becca cued up the card reader. Her lips were a thin line. Mustang was standing behind him, so Ed could only imagine his expression.

Okay. Maybe he was going to get into it with this asshole after all.

"Gee, if you insist. I always did like to do math," Ed said cheerfully. "I got my master's degree in physical chemistry last year, and I'll finish my graduate program in advanced material physics and nanostructures in May. I'm pre-approved for the doctorate program. Full ride. But I might delay it and brush up on my astrophysics. The Mars mission sounds like my kind of party." He grinned. "I could be working in the University labs, or as a TA, or both, but I need more flexible hours right now. Pothos suits me fine."

Tringham ground his teeth together, battling a helpless rage. He sputtered for a moment. Then his eyes settled on Ed's sweatshirt and lit up. "If you're so fucking smart, how come you didn't notice that 'hard on' is spelled wrong on your shirt?" He crossed his arms over his chest, secure in his victory.

Ed looked at Mustang. Then at Becca. Mustang looked at his shirt and smirked. Becca snorted. Then they burst out laughing.

"It's all yours," Mustang said, gesturing magnanimously toward a scowling Russell.

Ed shook his head. "Why bother? He's not worth my time."

Russell snarled as he snatched up his receipt and his purchase. He stomped to the door, ripped it open and tried to slam it behind him. When the hydraulic door cylinder made that impossible, he slammed his palm on the door frame instead and disappeared into the night.

"Have a nice day! Come again!" Becca called brightly, waving at the slowly closing door like it was the Queen Mary leaving port. Then she turned to Mustang and Ed with a grimace. "That Russell guy really needs to get laid."

"Big time," Ed agreed.

Mustang just shook his head, exasperated.

"Well, that was a whole lot of shitty drama for a twenty dollar sale," Becca said, glancing at the wall clock. "Now we've got fifteen minutes to get this order processed and put away."

"Shit." Ed sat back down on the floor next to a carton of We-Vibes. "What are you doing here Mustang? Need something?"

Mustang looked at the collection of boxes and frowned. "I was going to see if you wanted to join me for coffee tonight. But . . ."

Did he? It was probably going to take at least an hour to put the stock order to bed, barring any problems, and to cash out. And Ed was tired. And hungry. Though he guessed that he could always get a donut or five with that coffee. And Al was still in the hospital, but Winry was there, and they'd already ordered Ed not to come after work, to get some sleep instead. So . . .

What the hell. "I'm going to be another hour, at least," he warned.

"I can wait," Mustang said immediately, his face lighting up with a smile that almost broke Ed's brain.

Ed and Becca got busy. When nine o'clock rolled around, the door was locked, and the closed sign was set in place. They continued to work while Mustang stood out of the way, offering comical opinions on the merchandise as it was unpacked. The man had a dry sense of humour that matched Ed's own, and he had both Ed and Becca laughing out loud more than once. The time passed quickly.

They were nearly done when Ed caught a look Mustang quickly smoothed away. A weighted, considering look. Ed knew Mustang had to be curious about what had happened earlier. It was only natural, after some of the stuff he'd overheard. Ed also knew the man wasn't going to ask, which was kind of . . . nice. He decided to make it easy for him. Just this once.

"What." Ed prompted.

"What?" Mustang was puzzled.

"You want to ask something. Ask."

It took a moment for Mustang to phrase his question. "How old were you when you started high school?"

Not the question Ed was expecting. Ed's eyes were on the Swallow Hill Anime Sex Doll he was shelving. His attention was on Mustang. "I was twelve. I graduated just after I turned fourteen. Accelerated program."

And suddenly he was thrown back in time, remembering it all at once, looking at the big picture through older, wiser eyes, filtered through the perspective of experience and buffered by distance. He couldn't deny that he'd learned a lot, both good and bad, about himself and about human nature in general. Hard lessons for the most part. High school had framed some of the worst years of his life.

And it was over. All that shit was behind him, and he didn't have to worry about it anymore.

Something was still bothering Mustang. "Umm . . . how old . . . that is . . . can I ask . . ."

Ed knew exactly what it was. "I'm nineteen, dumbass. I'd have to be at least that to work at Pothos. You can't even walk in the door unless you're legal."

Mustang's sigh of relief was internal, but Ed heard it anyway.

"Anichka didn't want to hire me because she generally only hires women, and because of my 'tender age'," Ed rolled his eyes. "I was persistent, and she finally agreed. I don't think she regrets it."

He slid the final package into place and looked back at Becca. She was locking up the safe under the checkout counter. They were done for the day.

"So now you know something about me," Ed said as they shut down the lights and headed for the door. "I want to know something about you. It's only fair."

"Of course," Mustang answered. "Ask away."

"What's your first name?"

The man smiled. "I'm Roy."

Roy had an amazing smile.

Ed was still tired. And hungry. And Al was still in the hospital. And Ed had a long way to go before he was where he wanted to be. But things could be worse. Had been worse. And they weren't even half as bad anymore.

Maybe celebrating a New Year wasn't complete bullshit after all.


	4. What Friends Are For

Chapter Summary: Holy shit, this guy was a certifiable maniac!

* * *

The tall, gangly man walked into the store that afternoon with unnatural ease, which set off Ed's alarms immediately. Nobody came in with that much chutzpah unless they were 1) in the trade, 2) worked in an adult novelty shop too, or 3) were a bit nuts. The man glanced quickly around, eyes finally settling on Ed. His smile became unnervingly wide.

Uh oh. Did Ed know this guy?

Mid thirties. Tall. Dark spiky hair. A short, scruffy looking chin beard rimming a strong jaw. Rectangular glasses over intense green eyes. He looked business professional in dark slacks and an olive green pea coat.

Nope. Ed didn't know him.

But he appeared to know Ed. From where, Ed had no idea.

He strode over to the counter and leaned forearms on it, looking up at Ed with undisguised delight.

"Can I help you?" Ed asked, shifting slightly back on his stool. Best to keep this professional.

"No, not exactly. But at the same time, yes, definitely." Glasses wiggled his eyebrows, probably aiming for enigmatic but coming off just shy of alarmingly deranged - an epic misfire.

What Ed thought to himself was, 'Okay, option 3.' What he said out loud was, "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"No, just wandered in out of curiosity."

"Well, if you see something you like, let me know." And Ed winced internally. To a predator that would undoubtedly sound like an open invitation.

Glasses didn't take the opening, which was a relief.

Instead, he turned his back to lean against the counter on his elbows, taking in the dubious splendor that was Pothos Boutique.

In the mirror on the dressing room door, Ed watched as Glasses scanned a slow circuit of the showroom, starting with the DVD section by the counter, past the extensive selection of party games and favors, lingering for a moment on the provocatively posed manikins modelling erotic apparel before moving on to the lingerie spinners and footwear racks. As he panned by the dressing room he caught Ed watching him in the mirror and winked. Then his attention returned to his survey, skimming over the kink section, then on to the anal wall, the furniture, the inflatables, the dildo wall, and finally back to the case showing off the twerking butt positioned next to the checkout counter.

Ed expected the man to turn back to him, but he wasn't done. His interest was caught by the display islands in the middle ground, and he spent a few moments quietly examining the accessories, the lubes, the foams, the condoms, and finally the fleshlights, all from his vantage point against the counter.

He finally turned back to Ed.

"Nice place you have here," he said, smile bordering on the maniacal. "Clean; attractively presented; nice variety of merchandise."

"I just work here," Ed said, deadpan. "I'll pass your approval on to management."

A jingle of door balls cut off how Glasses might respond, and Ed hoped it was Samantha coming in early for her shift. For some reason he felt a desperate need for backup.

No such luck. A hugely overweight man walked in and looked in Ed's general direction with vacant eyes.

"Can I help you?" Ed asked.

The big guy shook his head and looked around the store, locking a suddenly hungry gaze on the anal wall. He hurried over to stare in rapt fascination, a chubby index finger pressing a dimple into his cheek.

And he was drooling.

What the hell was this? National Creep Out a Store Clerk Day?

Glasses had turned toward the big guy and observed him until he'd scurried away to stare at his draw, and a moment more. Then he turned back to _his_ apparent draw.

Ed.

"Umm-"

Glasses interrupted Ed's complete lack of any idea what to say to him. "So, Edward, isn't it?" Ed didn't deny or confirm, wondering how this guy knew. Pothos staff didn't wear name tags. "Are you a family man?"

"Uh-"

"Oh, of course. You're a bit on the young side, for that, aren't you?" Glasses laughed heartily. "Not too young to start keeping an eye out for that special person, though, just saying. Not pushing any particular sexual orientation either; love is love, am I right?"

"Umm-"

"I know, I know. To a youngster like you, the idea of a committed relationship must be a bit overwhelming." Glasses patted at his coat pockets for a moment. "Hang on, I have some proof right here that a long term commitment is the best thing that could ever happen to you – provided you find the right someone to commit to."

Glasses reached into his coat, and Ed tensed, wondering what he was going to pull out. A business card? A spiritual tract? An oddly shaped but perfectly balanced throwing knife?

He pulled out a thick stack of . . . photos.

Actual 4x6 glossy hardcopies.

Glasses fanned them out on the counter like a blackjack dealer and grinned.

Plucking a trio of pictures from the deck, he shoved them into Ed's personal space.

"This is my beautiful and talented wife." Glasses' face was a study in lovesick devotion. "Never has there been a more perfect partner." He flashed one photo to the top of the stack. "This is us on our wedding day. She was so beautiful," Glasses sighed, content. "And she's as gorgeous to this day. Just look!"

He started dealing out pictures of the pretty brunette like a Las Vega croupier. At home. In a neat, well kept yard. On beaches and boardwalks. In cars and trains. On swings and bicycles. There seemed to be no end to the photographic onslaught. How many of the damn things did this guy have?

"She's my perfect match," Glasses sighed, fawning unashamedly over the, hopefully, last picture.

To put up with this guy, she must also be a saint.

"But as unbelievable as it sounds, my beautiful spouse gave me an even more wonderful gift than her hand in marriage," Glasses said.

Oh shit. Ed knew what was coming. He looked wildly around for some way to escape, but he was trapped behind the counter with no way out that didn't involve shoving the man out of the way.

And then it was too late.

"This is my beautiful daughter!" Glasses whipped out a new handful of photos, this time of an admittedly adorable little girl. Probably about three years old, she had her mother's sweet smile and her father's eyes.

"Cute," Ed said, cautiously.

Big mistake.

Glasses grinned, encouraged, and started flipping out picture after picture like a master fucking magician while keeping up a running monologue describing each one in detail. Where he was pulling them from Ed had no idea. All of the sweet little girl.

There were a shit load from the day she was born. _Every single day_ after that. Halloweens. Thanksgivings. Christmases. Every holiday Ed could imagine and some he'd never even heard of. First birthday. Second. Third. With her mother. With her father. With her friends. Dozens upon dozens of cute outfits, costumes, hairstyles, accessories, scenarios. It was _endless_.

Shit, this guy had to be out of his mind! Did he wander around the city all day, looking for isolated retail employees so he could overwhelm them with photographs of his family?

The door balls signalled another arrival, and this time Ed was hoping for an extremely picky, difficult to please customer who would keep him occupied to the end of his shift – some four hours hence.

It was Samantha. Damn. His luck sucked harder than usual today. She nodded to him. Ed grimaced. She frowned in sympathy. He nodded over toward the big guy, who was still ogling the anal wall with disturbing intensity. Sam went briefly to the back room to ditch her coat, then returned to the showroom to speak with Big Guy.

Another photo was shoved under Ed's nose.

"Look at this!" Glasses crowed. "My two perfect angels wearing _matching outfits_!" He cradled the picture against his face in a textbook obsessive-compulsive state of bliss, duck lips and all.

"Hey!" Sam shouted in alarm.

Ed looked up to see Big Guy dodging fluidly past her, charging with amazing speed for the door, a neon orange butt plug clutched to his chest.

Goddamn! Second grab and dash of the week!

Ed jumped off his stool to give chase. He needn't have bothered. Before Ed could launch himself over the counter, Glasses casually slid out a foot and tripped the runner to a sliding sprawl on the floor.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!" Glasses stooped to pry the plug out of the big guys hands and tossed it up on the counter. Easily hauling the guy to his feet despite his bulk, Glasses took a moment to dust him off. "Are you alright? You were leaving, weren't you? Here, let me help you."

With an unyielding arm locked around Big Guy' shoulders and a constant stream of meaningless platitudes, Glasses escorted him to the door. Opening it, he propelled the guy outside, wished him a pleasant day, and cheerfully bid him farewell. Big Guy stood on the sidewalk looking in for a moment, then with a confused frown he wandered away.

"Now, where were we?" Glasses was back at the counter, shuffling through the mass of photos to find the ones he hadn't shown off yet. Then he caught himself and looked up at Ed, a little sheepish. "That is, if you're interested?"

Holy shit, this guy was a certifiable maniac!

And Ed was beginning to like him.

The man had just done him a favor, and it was a slow day. He shrugged. "Sure, what the hell. Show me."

The pictures kept rolling. Samantha soon came over to exclaim over them and pulled out her phone to show off a few shots of her kids as well. Ed settled back to watch the parental byplay and accompanying banter, amused.

It was close to six o'clock when Roy Mustang breezed into the store. Ed hadn't been expecting him. He was horrified to feel his face soften into a sappy, contented smile at just the sight of him.

And realized that Glasses was suddenly watching Ed with great intensity.

While Roy was staring at Glasses with open-mouthed astonishment.

"Maes? Wha-"

"Roy! What a surprise!"

Well, that explained a few things.

Mustang was frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"Why does one generally come into a store?" Glasses asked, the picture of innocence.

"Not buying it, Maes."

Glasses' laugh was a bit too loud. "That's clever! Buying it! Because that's what you do in a store!"

Noting that he was the only one laughing, he stopped. Now he was frowning too.

"I could be here to find something sexy for Gracia," he said, petulant. "Not that she isn't sexy enou-"

"But you're not." Roy crossed his arms across his chest.

"No, I'm not," Glasses admitted. "You know why I'm here."

"Maes-"

"It's because you refused to bring him over for dinner on Saturday!" Forcefully.

"It's too soon. We're just getting to know each other." Quietly.

Glasses backed down. He sighed.

"Well, you keep talking about him, and I know you," Glasses said, exasperated. He looked over at Ed. "Honestly, you should hear him. It's been Edward this. Edward that. And all after going out for coffee _once_? I've never seen him like this! It's annoying! I was in the neighbourhood and decided to pop in and meet the man who brought the great Roy Mustang to his knees. Err, so to speak."

Mustang looked like he was torn between rolling up in an embarrassed little ball and strangling his chattering friend. Ed kind of knew how he felt.

"In the neighbourhood. You're quite a distance from your own neighbourhood, aren't you?" Roy said testily. "You're stationed at 55 Division. This is the 41. That's a good half hour drive. And you live in the opposite direction."

"Really? Shocking! I had no idea!" Hughes had plenty of ideas and did not appear to be shocked at all. "I'm not here in any kind of official capacity though, Roy. I'm here on a personal fact finding mission."

"Wait, you're a police officer?" That explained a few more things.

"He's a Detective, at the 55," Roy said sourly. "Maes Hughes, meet Edward Elric."

Hughes shot out a hand and grabbed Ed's, giving it a hearty shake. "Any friend of Roy's," he said solemnly. The he turned back to Roy, brightening considerably. "I'm sorry I didn't bring my camera! He's adorable! Gracia and Elicia will love him! You have to bring him over for dinner!"

"I will, Maes." Roy's smile was small but fond. "Soon."

That seemed to satisfy him.

"So!" Hughes scooped his photos into a neat stack with practiced ease and stuffed them into his coat. "I guess I'd better be going." He turned to Samantha. "It was nice to meet you Sam." Then to Edward. "And you too, Ed. I'm sure we'll be meeting again. Roy and I, we've been friends for a long time. Been though a lot together." Reflected light on his glasses turned them into mirrors, hiding those intense green eyes when he said, "I would hate to see him hurt. _Seriously_ hate it." His brilliant, deranged smile sprang back to life. "But since I suspect that you're as smitten as he is, I'm sure that won't be an issue."

Unnerving.

But understandable. The day Al had come home from the hospital, Ed had slipped up about the coffee 'date' he had gone on with Mustang. The Al and Winry interrogation squad had gone into action, mercilessly wrenched out as many details as they could, and were delighted to do so. But after Winry had retired to her room, Al had been very quiet.

"I worry about you, Brother," he'd finally said, and would not allow Ed to interrupt. "You don't eat enough. You don't sleep enough. I worry that you're not looking after yourself. I worry that you work too hard. I worry that you never do anything just for you. So please don't feel guilty when you take time to do something that makes you feel good, because when you do, it makes me worry less. Just . . . be careful."

The brat.

It was nice to know that Mustang had someone who cared about him, and really, Hughes wasn't a bad guy. He was just looking out for a friend. Ed could easily imagine what might transpire when Al and Winry finally met Roy. It might be a good idea to warn him.

Or, on the other hand, not.

Why should Ed be the only one blindsided by well meaning loved ones? Where Winry's style was more like Ed's – as bluntly straightforward as a charging rhino – Al's was more like Hughes' - except that Al was disarmingly sweet instead of, like, outright _insane_.

Actually, when he thought about it, Al and Hughes had quite a few similarities in the personality department. Overprotective was the first word that leaped to mind. Right before shrewd, decisive, and manipulative. And all of _that_ scary shit was hidden behind the smokescreen of an exceptionally cheerful, outgoing persona.

Which was why Ed decided right then and there to dedicate his life to ensuring that Al and Hughes would never, ever meet. Under any circumstances. Period. The thought of the two of them joining forces was frankly terrifying.


	5. The Family You Choose

Work Text:

Roy noticed the blonde girl bundled up in a hot pink puffy parka and matching leggings leaning against an older model Honda Civic when he pulled into the strip mall parking lot, but he didn't really pay her any mind.

Until she marched over to intercept him on his way to Pothos Boutique.

"What's your game, Mustang?" she demanded.

A thousand possible responses flooded his mind in the split second it took him to answer. Twenty questions. Can I go first? Dodging responsibility. Have a nice day! Games are for children. What's yours little girl?

"That would depend on who's asking," he said mildly. When in doubt, remain calm and begin evasive maneuvers.

The girl, probably in her early twenties, snorted contemptuously. "Dodging a question and fishing for information at the same time. You should be in politics."

"So I've been told." Roy kept his expression neutral. "Unfortunately, I can't offer a more suitable response at this time without clarifying details as to what you actually want to know. And perhaps not even then."

Another snort. Crossing her arms, the girl tilted her head and peered at Roy through narrowed eyes bluer than a clear summer sky. "I'm a friend of Edward Elric. A __very good__ friend."

Ah. Roy looked toward Pothos, and then farther along the strip. Fat Bastard Burritos was the only option for a sit-down conversation that didn't involve a five minute drive or ten minute walk with an aggrieved __very good__ friend.

Roy proposed this option. It was grudgingly accepted. The fact that it was 8:30 pm in January and cold as hell standing in a wind swept parking lot probably had a something to do with it.

Fat Bastard was empty, warm, and quiet. The rich aroma of grilled steak and cilantro wrapped around the silent pair as they stepped up to the counter and ordered. Roy's treat. Under the circumstances it was only fair. It took five uncomfortable minutes for their order to be prepared. For Roy it was five minutes of impending doom.

There were no tables in the small eatery. Instead, a few stools were set along a counter under the storefront window – an eat and get the hell out atmosphere. No matter. Roy didn't see this conversation taking very long. He didn't bother to unwrap his food. Why he had ordered anything beyond coffee was a mystery. He didn't really feel like eating.

Roy decided to get this over with.

"I haven't known him for very long. We have only ever been out for coffee. Three times to be exact," he stated. "Tonight we had planned to go to East Side Mario's after his shift. Please believe me when I tell you that I didn't know he . . . I didn't know about . . . you."

The girl looked confused for a moment. Then her eyes widened.

Just before she bust out in an incredulous squawk of laughter.

"You think that me and Ed are together?" she said, shaking her head. "We're not. That's not what this is about." She grimaced, muttering under her breath, "Note to self, put more emphasis on the 'friend' part next time." Her attention turned back to Roy. "No, this is way worse than a confrontation over some stupid act of infidelity. This is about your __intentions__."

Roy was certain that the emphasis was now on the correct word. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved to know that Edward wasn't taken – and a cheater, though that particular character flaw seemed a complete non sequitur - or more apprehensive about this girl's intents and purposes.

"As I said, we haven't really known each other for very long," Roy started again, slowly. "I suppose that my intention is to get to know him a little better and move forward from there."

The girl looked skeptical. Roy wondered how he might steer this conversation toward a positive conclusion, preferably as quickly as possible. The girl took a deep breath.

"Roy Mustang. Thirty-one years old. Single. Never married." She was ticking off his stats on her fingers as she recited them. "Graduated K.H. Bradley Collegiate IB Program summa cum laude, valedictorian. Accepted by the National Military Academy, full scholarship. Pi Sigma Alpha __and__ Sigma Pi Sigma. Graduated top of your class. Served on active duty in Africa under General George 'Old Man' Grumman. Nigeria. Somalia. Uganda. Sudan. Your unit was involved in Project Disarm, which failed spectacularly."

Roy stared. Who was this girl, and how did she come by this information? Most was public knowledge. Some was most definitely not.

"You served your mandatory five years active, and then you quit. Dropped out of sight for a year. Resurfaced two years ago as a war correspondent for Global News. Now you're the youngest managing editor on the national desk that they've ever had."

"Hmm," Roy said thoughtfully, biting back a smirk. "Sounds exactly like the kind of shady thug that you might want to warn a friend to be careful around."

The girl ignored the thinly veiled acrimony and plowed on.

"What's a successful, put together, mature guy like you want with a nineteen-year-old student working a shit job who's just getting started?" Her eyes were diamond hard. "He's young. He's attractive. He's also mouthy and crude. What is the actual draw?"

"Young and attractive are definitely part of it," Roy admitted. "Smart, strong, and passionate are part of it too. He's a brat, but for me that's part of his appeal. As I said, I want to get to know him." Hopefully in the biblical sense as well, but Roy kept that part to himself.

The girl was still giving him the stink eye. Then she lobbed another grenade.

"Your aunt is Chris Mustang, AKA Madam Christmas. She owns Whispers. Do you want me to outline what I know about that establishment?" The girl glanced toward the kitchen.

So did Roy. The Fat Bastard wait staff were in the back, doing whatever it is that restaurant staff do when they aren't serving food, and nowhere near close enough to be listening. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"No." And from where in __hell__ was she getting her information?

"Good. I might forget to keep my voice down." She glared at him. "You head hunting for your aunt, Mustang? See an attractive young guy working in a sex shop and figure you can groom him for Madam Christmas' side business? Do you get a commission?"

His first reaction was shock. Anger followed immediately on its heels.

The Madam's 'side business' was about offering vulnerable young people a means to escape the trap that was destroying their lives, not ensnaring them. This little snoop knew a lot, but she didn't really have a clue.

And it was not Roy's job to educate her. Ed's friend or not, the gloves were off.

"You seem to be a bit confused," Roy said, loosing his condescending smirk, full wattage. "Association with an establishment that involves sexual gratification, even second hand – and no pun intended of course – does not in any way imply immorality or criminality on the part of the associate, be it an employee in an adult novelty store or a relative of a nightclub owner steeped in dark rumor. Does Edward know that you hold an unfairly low opinion of him, simply because he sells sex toys?"

That did not generate the defensive reaction Roy was expecting.

"Hmm," the girl muttered to herself. "Gotta watch out for the old 'turn the tables' trick with this one." She refocused on Roy. "What was that? An attack because I got it right, or because I got it wrong? Sometimes it's hard to tell."

"You got it wrong," Roy said flatly. "If you're worried about my motives, perhaps you should take this up with Edward." Because you are __not__ scaring me away.

"Oh, I have," the girl said with a roll of her eyes. "He says I'm wrong about you, but he's been bitten in the ass really, __really__ hard before and I worry, you know?"

Roy didn't respond. There was actually nothing he could say to convince this girl that his intentions were, well, not exactly __pure__ , but absolutely not malicious. Nor did he want to. It was Edward who needed to know that, and it appeared that he already did.

"He's mentioned a few things," she continued with a shrug. "Not much. Get him going on anything to do with science and you can't shut him up, but getting him to open up about anything personal is like trying to ride a tricycle up a spiral staircase. I've managed to pry out enough to know that he likes spending time with you. Probably too much, if my suspicions are correct."

"They aren't," Roy told her. A simple statement of fact.

The girl ignored him. "I know Ed is strong enough to protect himself, physically at least." Her eyes glinted dangerously. "I want to make sure he doesn't have to."

"Warning acknowledged."

"Oh, that wasn't the warning part of this conversation," the girl told him with a sparkle in her eyes. "My Gran lives out in the boonies. On one hundred and forty-two acres. That land has been in my family for generations, and while it used to be cleared farmland, it's been growing wild for nearly a century." Her grin was pure evil. "Great place to hide a body. You would never be found. Oh, did I say 'you'? I meant 'it' of course."

"Again, warning acknowledged."

Roy stood up. So did the girl. She scooped up her burrito and took it with her when she left. Roy dumped his in the trash on the way out.

It was even colder now. Roy took a deep, cleansing breath of the crisp air and watched as the girl passed Pothos and made her way to her old Honda. She turned and gave him a flippant wave as she got in. The car started, and she drove away.

Well. That had certainly been an unpleasant surprise.

But Roy wasn't going to let it stop him from appreciating his evening. It had been quite the task to get Edward to agree to an actual date with him, and nothing was going to prevent Roy from enjoying it. Not the cold, not his haunted past, and certainly not meddling though well-intentioned friends.

At two minutes to nine Roy's arrival at Pothos was much later than expected, and though Edward brushed off Roy's apology, he could tell that the younger man was relieved to see him. He'd probably thought that he had been stood up.

Anichka was in the process of cashing out the register. She shooed the two men out the door with a wink. Ed locked it behind him, then fell into step beside Roy as they trekked through the frigid night air to the parking lot. Roy's arm wanted to slide around Ed's shoulders to pull him close, so to distract it Roy fished out his car keys to unlock the doors.

Edward burst out laughing.

"Of course you drive a Mustang," Edward said gleefully. "You're such a dork!"

Roy held up a hand as he opened Ed's door. "Guilty," he admitted with a grin.

"Cherry red, too," Ed returned the grin.

"Fire engine red, if you please," Roy corrected with a disdainful sniff.

Ed was shaking his head as he slid into the passenger seat, but he looked up with an expression so fond that Roy literally forgot to breath.

No, blonde girls with too much information were nowhere near enough to scare Roy away from spending time with Ed.

Roy's biggest problem at that moment was holding himself back when he so desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him.


	6. Perfect Storm

Author's Note: Happy 520 Day!

* * *

Seven o'clock on a Saturday evening, and the city had been brought to a standstill by the first major winter storm of the season. The National Weather Service gurus had issued advisories for heavy snow, major drifting, and a windchill in the minus thirties, with vastly reduced visibility. It was dangerous to drive, they warned. If you don't have to go out, stay home, they insisted.

So what was Roy doing in an empty strip mall parking lot with the gale driven snow blasting like icy needles into his face?

Struggling through the rapidly growing drifts, Roy glanced back to notice that his Mustang was already completely snow frosted. If Maes, Riza, or his aunt Chris ever found out about this, they'd never let him hear the end of it. He would be forced to live out the rest of his days listening to their cheerful mockery. The words 'smitten', 'lovesick', and of course 'besotted' would feature prominently.

And it would all be true.

Roy was a knight in shining armor - if by 'shining' you meant 'insulated' and by 'armor' you meant 'extreme weather gear' - and this was a rescue mission.

Pothos Boutique was the only store open on the mall. As a matter of fact, it was probably the only store open in the entire city - as Roy could confirm, being someone who had just driven halfway across it.

There was a fair amount of snow drifted up against the door, and it spilled inside when Roy shoved it open. Behind the counter, Edward looked up from his textbook in surprise, obviously not expecting to see anyone tonight. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline when he recognized his visitor.

"Mustang?" he said, incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I don't know if you heard, but they've pulled all busses off the roads this evening," Roy told him. "I'm here to give you a lift home."

"I heard about the busses. No big deal. I was planning to spend the night here," Ed said, pointing toward the back of the store. He had already pushed one of the Liberator Sex Loungers into the corner by the fitting room and added a couple of booby pillows for comfort.

Roy found himself distracted from making an immediate response. His fertile imagination was providing inspiring imagery of Ed in various positions on the chaise that had nothing to do with sleeping. He tore his eyes away from the lounger, and his mind away from fantasy Ed.

"Well, now you don't have to," Roy stated. "I can take you home."

Ed didn't look convinced. "I already told Al and Winry that I'm staying here."

Was the young man really going to argue about this? He grasped for an objection to Ed's plan. "You don't even have a blanket."

Ed shrugged. "It's warm enough in here, and I can always put on my coat. I won't need a blanket. Besides, I can't leave right now. It's not closing time yet."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? Do you really think anyone would be foolish enough to come to Pothos in a blizzard?"

"You did." Ed's grin was smug.

Brat.

Ed continued. "I had a couple come in for some toys about three hours ago. I swear, if I hear one more fucking idiot say, 'So much for global warming,' I'm going to lose my shit." Edward gritted his teeth. "Seriously, can they not understand the difference between weather and climate?"

Roy was not going to be put off. "Are you really going to insist on staying here, even though I'd be happy to drive you home?" he asked testily, finding it hard to believe that his rescue mission was going to fail due to an unreasonably stubborn rescuee.

"I've got light so I can catch up on my reading, heat so I won't freeze, and a place to sleep," Ed pointed out. "No need to go out in the cold."

Roy ground his teeth. This was frustrating. "I wish you would reconsider."

"I wish __you__ would-"

The lights blinked.

"Did you see that?" Edward asked, frowning.

His question was answered when the lights flickered again and went out. The store was suddenly pitch black.

Power outage.

In the dark, Roy grinned. How fortuitous.

"Shut up, bastard," Edward said wearily, even though Roy had said nothing at all.

Roy could hear Ed shuffling around. Something metallic hit the floor and rolled. A heartfelt curse.

Then Roy felt a light touch on his elbow. The touch tracked up to his shoulder.

A voice close to Roy's ear said, "Well Mustang, I guess you get your wish."

Roy's arm came up all on its own to wrap around strong shoulders. Distracted by the flex of toned muscle beneath his palm, Roy turned toward the source of that voice.

And by instinct alone, found Edward's lips with his own.

Perhaps it was because he was effectively blind that Roy's other senses literally exploded: the taste of sweet coffee on his lips, a scent that was uniquely Edward, the warm pressure of the man in his arms, a thrill of pleasure from this intimate connection.

But before he could press the kiss any deeper, Roy became aware of the fact that Edward had frozen. Roy immediately released the younger man and stepped away, the hand still resting on Edward's shoulder holding him at arm's length.

What the hell had he been thinking?

They stood like that for a few moments in complete darkness. Then Edward shrugged Roy's hand off and Roy heard him step away. More shuffling, more cursing, and then – light.

A flashlight, to be exact. It didn't resemble any kind of genitalia, surprisingly. Unsurprisingly, it revealed a deeply scowling Edward.

Roy knew why. He had crossed a line, and Edward had every right to be offended.

Ed stared at him for a moment, then turned away.

"I'm locking up. Let's get out of here," he said tonelessly.

The parking lot was lit by the glow of street lights from the surrounding, not-blacked-out parts of the neighbourhood reflected by the snow – which made it brighter than Roy would have expected.

Brushing off the car was awkward. The drifts were up to their knees. Even with the two of them working together, the snow was settling almost as fast a they could brush it off. Worse, the silence surrounding the pair was uncomfortable. Roy worked his way along the driver's side while Edward took care of the passenger's side. They met at the back window, facing each other from opposite sides of the car.

And Roy didn't want this uneasy silence to last any longer between them.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked quietly. "For kissing you?"

"No, not for kissing me," Edward said flatly, though his eyes flashed with that passion Roy had admired from the start. "But can I ask you something, Roy?"

"Of course," he said. Ask me for the rest of my life, and it's yours.

"Why did you push me away?"

Roy took a moment to disarm his glib tongue despite how vulnerable it made him feel, as if speaking the unvarnished truth was showing weakness. He hoped that he was right about this young man; that his weakness would not be exploited. That with Edward, Roy was safe.

"We've only known each other for a short time. I didn't mean to – I was afraid that I took you farther than you were ready to go," Roy said slowly, "I don't want to take advantage." Or screw this up, he wasn't quite brave enough to say out loud.

Edward seemed to hear it anyway. His smile was tentative but distinctly fond, and he moved around the car directly into Roy's space. Roy held his ground, hoping beyond hope.

"Do I look like the kind of guy who would let someone take advantage?" Edward asked, voice low.

"You froze."

Ed shrugged. "I wasn't expecting it."

"I shouldn't have-"

"Just because I wasn't expecting it doesn't mean I didn't want it. If I'd wanted you to stop, I would have said so." Ed raised an eyebrow, lips tilting into a small grin.

And Roy was only human.

He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pockets. Then he cupped his hands around Edward's upturned face, skimming his thumbs along Ed's jaw, shielding Edward's skin from the bite of cold winter wind.

"If you want me to stop, tell me now," he whispered.

When Edward said nothing, slowly, gently, Roy drew Edward to him and brushed his lips lightly against Edward's forehead, that lightest of touches arcing a current along his nerves.

"Or now."

No objection. Roy moved his lips just to the edge of Edward's mouth.

"Or now."

Roy's lips hovered a breath away from Edward's.

"Or-"

Edward curled his fingers into the collar of Roy's coat to tug him down, and the rest of Roy's words were lost against his mouth. Roy kissed Edward gently, carefully, but it wasn't gentleness that Edward wanted. He clutched tighter, knotting his fists in Roy's coat, pulling him harder against him. Edward growled softly, low in his throat, and then Roy's arms were around him, pressing them tightly together.

The parking lot lights suddenly flared back to life, and Edward broke the kiss with a gasp, though he stayed in the circle of Roy's arms. They were standing so close that Roy could feel the warmth of the other's body, his own warming in response to the fire in those entrancing honey eyes.

Then Edward pushed forward and pinned Roy to the car, mouth settling hot and fierce.

He'd already kissed Edward once, but that kiss had been made bitter by Roy's belief that he was not welcome to it. Now Roy found that Edward's lips tasted of sweet promise. Ed's face warmed in his hands, and Roy took a quick, shaking breath before giving himself up completely, opening himself to Ed with something that felt like relief. Ed's breath hitched when Roy's feverish fingers brushed the skin of his neck, just behind his ear.

Heat radiated off the younger man, and Roy felt Ed swallow hard. A slow flutter started in his midriff and spread deeper, hotter, stirring Roy's body with want and sparking his mind with raw desire.

Ed held very still with his lips sealed against Roy's, but his tongue was passionately alive, exploring Roy's mouth with pure abandon. Ed growled again, a sound felt more than heard, sending shivers across Roy's skin that had nothing to do with the cold. His mind buzzed lightly with the pleasure of it, his body fairly thrumming as Ed's hands moved to cradle the back of Roy's head. Roy clutched at Ed's hip, pulling him closer until they were fully and totally flush against each other, like two hands pressed together, palm to palm.

The cold was forgotten. The snow, the wind, the street, the car at his back, all forgotten. There was only the two of them in a swirling whirlwind of white, each anchored tightly by the other, resonating in tune, Roy's senses filling with Edward until he thought he might burst into a shower of sparks.

But all good things must come to an end, particularly when there is a real danger of hypothermia.

This time when Roy pulled away, it was with great reluctance.

"Unless we want to be found frozen solid like this in the morning, I think I should drive you home." Roy said.

"Mmm." Edward finally stepped back, drawing his scarf tighter and pulling up his collar. "But what a way to go," he said wistfully. "It will have to be my home though, unfortunately. Al and Winry are already worried, and if they call Pothos and I'm not there-"

"Delivering you safely to your home was always my intention," Roy assured him.

And he meant it. When they did consummate this relationship, preferably sooner than later, Roy didn't want it to be a spur of the moment encounter. He wanted it to be the culmination of a perfectly executed plan. He wanted it to be perfect, both for himself, and for Edward.

Roy opened the car door and Edward slid inside.

Apart from Edward giving directions, they didn't speak, but this time the silence was comfortable. Under normal conditions the drive would probably have taken about fifteen minutes. As it was, it was more than double that before Roy was pulling up in front of a brick low-rise apartment block.

"Do you want to come in?" Ed asked. "I'm sure I could scare up some hot chocolate. And our couch might be safer than trying to drive in this shitstorm, but you'd have to contend with my brother and my best friend. They're dying to meet you."

Roy gave it some serious thought. "No," he decided. "I'll be fine."

"Can you call me when you get home?" Ed asked, and was that a blush? "So I don't worry." He put a hand to the back of his head self-consciously. "Christ, I sound like a sap. You're starting to rub off on me."

"I'll call."

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"My pleasure."

Roy smiled.

Ed looked at Roy, undecided.

Roy decided for both of them. He reached out and wrapped a hand around Ed's upper arm, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was softer, warmer, but just as thrilling.

And far too quick.

Judging from his charming pout, Ed appeared to agree, but opened his door to slip out into the storm anyway, letting in a blast of frigid wind. The door slammed, cutting it off. Roy watched Edward walk up the path to the apartment building's main doors, pause to look back at Roy with a heart-stopping smile, and then enter.

With a deep sigh and a satisfied smile of his own, Roy decided that his mission had been a resounding success. Maybe his luck was finally changing for the better. He shifted the Mustang to low gear.

And heard an odd popping sound, just before the engine stuttered and died.

Roy shoved the gearshift into neutral and cranked the key.

Nothing.

He depressed the clutch and tried again.

Nothing.

Shit.


	7. Meet the Family

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay.

* * *

Edward sprinted up the stairs to the third floor, grinning from ear to ear. When he reached the top, he stopped. He needed to dial back the rush he was experiencing before he went into the apartment. He couldn't let Al and Winry see him this way. They were far too observant. If they saw him this pumped and found out that Roy had driven him home, they'd know something had happened. Between the two of them, they would use the objective data and extrapolate, and then they'd work on Ed in tandem until they got all the details.

Nope.

For now, the kiss he had shared with Roy was something he wanted to hold private, something to treasure, something he could take out and appreciate just for himself. Later, if – no, he was pretty sure it was going to be _when_ – he and Roy had spent more time together, when they knew each other better, when this relaxed happiness was more familiar, he might be inclined to share how Roy made him feel with Al and Winry. For now, he wanted to selfishly guard these intimate moments.

It wouldn't be hard.

It would be damn near impossible.

Ed had to compose himself. Standing on the third-floor landing, he took a few deep breaths to calm down, and considered how he was going to play this.

It was okay to go in looking happy. He was home, when he had been fully prepared to spend the night at Pothos Boutique sleeping on furniture not designed for sleeping. That warranted a measure of cheerfulness.

They would want to know how he had gotten home. Should he admit that Roy had showed up out of the blue and offered him a ride? Tough call. If he simply said a friend had driven him, they would want to know who, and Ed wasn't a good enough liar to pull off full-frontal fabrication on the two people closest to him. So. The simple truth. Roy had shown up. Offered a ride. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Ed had accepted.

He wouldn't mention the blackout. It was impossible to think about it without calling to mind the search for the flashlight he had dropped, and finding Roy in the darkness, and how a strong arm had folded around his shoulders, and how he had been drawn in close, and how Roy's lips had felt against his. Their first kiss, and yeah, fireworks, as cliché as that had always sounded to Ed. Never mind that Roy had quickly pulled away. He had done it for the right reasons.

And Roy had certainly made up for it in the parking lot.

And _now_ Ed had a euphoric grin to tamp down too. Which was why mentioning the power outage would be a tactical error.

He walked down the hall to his apartment like he was navigating a minefield. Pulling out his keys, Ed took a few more deep, calming breaths, pasted on what he hoped was a suitable happy-to-be-home smile, squared his shoulders, and unlocked his door.

Al was craning his head around from his position on the couch, snuggly cocooned in the comforter from his bed with the cat curled up in the near vicinity of his lap. Winry was leaning out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon in her hand. Three pairs of eyes were staring at Ed.

"Brother!" Al cheered. "I thought you were going to ride out the storm at the shop!" Then he frowned. "You didn't walk home, did you? I told you I'd be fine on my own for however long it would take Winry to pick you up."

"I'm not an idiot, Al," Ed said testily, and chose to ignore the skeptical expression on both Al's and Winry's faces. Ed continued, affecting nonchalance. "Roy showed up and offered me a ride."

"Roy did?" Winry had automatically gone into analysis mode. Shit. "How did that happen? He lives in the Beaches."

Ed toed off his boots and put them in the boot tray. "He heard the busses weren't running and came to get me."

Al and Winry exchanged glances. The cat purred. Ed continued to shrug out of his winterwear, a considerable quantity of melting snow showering off it to the floor. He hoped it would provide a distraction.

No such luck.

"That was awfully nice of him," Al said, grinning.

"Yes, awfully," Winry agreed, coming out of the kitchen with a slight frown and her arms crossed.

"You should have invited him in," Al admonished, still grinning.

"I did," Ed defended. "He decided to head for home instead."

"Smart man," Winry murmured.

Ed chose to ignore that comment too. Finally free of his winter vestments, he walked into the living room proper and flopped himself into the armchair across from the sofa, reaching to plug his phone into the charger by the end table. The cat, who Al had named Bandit but who Ed insisted on calling Colonel McSlashy Hands, jilted Al and sashayed over to stake his claim on Ed's lap instead.

"How's it going Colonel?" he said, giving his full attention to scritching behind the purring feline's ears. "Shredded any good books lately?"

Al hadn't fallen for Edward's lame evasive maneuvers since he was three, and Ed's demeanor suggested that he was hiding something. "How was your evening, Brother? What time did Monica leave? Did you get any customers before Roy arrived to rescue you?"

"It was quiet," Ed said, feeling Winry's eyes boring into the back of his head. "Monica left at about two o'clock, so she could make it in time to pick up her kids from school. I only had three sales all afternoon." Ed's eyes were on the Colonel, stroking soft black fur while half hooded buttery eyes gazed up at him. He could do this. He could keep it together.

"Did the power go out at the store?" Winry asked. "We were blacked out for about twenty minutes."

Ed flushed a deep, fiery red from head to toe.

He shot out the chair, dumping the cat in the process. "I need a shower," Ed told them as he abandoned ship.

"Will it be a cold one?" Winry called after him.

~0~

Roy sat in his rapidly cooling car, staring at his phone. The Roadside Assistance Association he subscribed to had basically told him to go pound snow down a rathole. They weren't going to send a tow truck until the roads were cleared, and that probably wouldn't be until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. All three of the cab companies Roy had called were not answering. Lyft and Uber were quoting fees roughly equivalent to the annual Gross Domestic Product of Tuvalu, and even then, couldn't promise an ETA sooner than three hours. Any friend Roy called would likely take at least as long to get here. He would be frozen solid by then.

Roy tried to start his Mustang one last time.

Nothing. Roy leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. "I forgive you," he whispered to the car.

That said, the fact remained that Roy's baby had let him down, and he was now stranded in a blizzard. He had to accept it, and to admit that there was no other choice but to see if Ed's proposal of a couch for the night was still on.

Roy fired off a text.

My car just died. Can I take you up on your offer?

A few minutes passed, and as the car grew colder, he decided to call.

"Hello?" a vaguely familiar, female voice answered.

Roy checked the contact pic to make sure he had called the right number. Sure enough, the dry smile Ed had offered him when Roy took his picture – at East Side Mario's on their first official date – confirmed it.

"Hello," Roy said. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm calling for Edward Elric."

"Who is this?"

"Roy Mustang."

"Oh," the stranger said brightly. "You're listed as 'Bastard' in his contacts."

"Inside joke," Roy explained without explaining.

"Ed's in the shower," the voice told him. "Can I take a message?"

Well this was awkward. "Actually, I'm in a bit of a fix," Roy admitted. "I'm still parked in front of the building. My car won't start, and it looks like I won't be able to get home tonight. Ed suggested-"

"Come on up. Apartment 310."

So far so good. Roy left the frosty calm of the car to brave the freezing, wind whipped walkway to Ed's apartment building.

Gaining the shelter of the entryway was a definite relief. Roy had not realized just how cold he had gotten, sitting in his dead car. The short distance to the building also saw a substantial amount of snow coating Roy's head and shoulders, and he glanced out toward his car, hoping he was leaving her in a safe place. It wouldn't be easily visible for much longer.

The quiet sounds of other peoples' lives followed Roy down the hall to apartment 310. He knocked. The door opened.

And Ed's self-proclaimed bestie of Fat Bastard Burritos fame stood beaming in the doorway. Roy wondered if it was too late to beat a hasty but graceful retreat.

"Don't just stand, there! Come on in!" The blond girl's grin was feral as she stepped aside and motioned for Roy to enter.

Completely empty the living room still would have appeared small. Crammed with overstuffed furniture it was tiny and cramped, but cozy. Three large armchairs and a big comfy couch clustered around a sturdy, well-used coffee table, with mismatched end tables arranged between them for convenience. Lounging on the sofa was a brightly smiling young man with eyes almost the same shade of gold as Edward's, but it was difficult to determine if there was any other resemblance. The young man was wrapped from chin to toe in a pale blue comforter, and he was wearing a blue and white baseball cap that did little to conceal the fact that he was completely bald. A lanky black cat was sitting pretty in his lap.

Roy left his boots on a plastic tray by the door. The girl took his coat and ushered Roy to the chair across from the couch. He sat.

"Oh my," the young man said. "You're much more handsome than your profile picture."

Roy wasn't sure how to respond to that without asking which profile, so he decided not to. Instead, he leaned over and reached out his hand. "Roy Mustang. Nice to meet you."

The hand that snaked out from under the covers and took Roy's was thin, but the grip was firm and the hand was warm. "Alphonse Elric. Brother tries not to talk about you but ends up talking about you a lot."

Roy couldn't help but grin. "I have heard a lot about you too," he said. Then he turned to the blonde girl, expecting an introduction as well.

He didn't get one.

"You drove all the way over here in a blizzard to pick Ed up and drive him home." The girl looked suspicious.

Roy shrugged and settled back in the chair. It was comfortable, though the atmosphere was not. "I did. We were texting, and he mentioned that he was at work. I heard that public transit had been shut down, so I decided to come to his rescue."

"You offered him a ride? That's all?"

Roy had expected some kind of third degree, for all the reasons this girl had outlined in Fat Bastards two weeks ago. Roy was older, and established. Ed was working his way thought university, and an unapologetic brat. Roy knew what it looked like, so he just shrugged again. He had nothing to hide. "That's all."

"Then I guess you can't explain why he looked so self-conscious when I mentioned that the power had gone out a little while ago."

Well.

Maybe Roy did have something to hide.

Not that what had happened was anything to be ashamed of. What it was, was _personal_.

"Brother and I are very close, and Winry is our sister in every sense of the word except by blood," Al reassured, his voice sweet, and innocent, and as smooth as fine silk. "If you know of something that Ed might be uncomfortable about, we'd like to help. Perhaps it was something perfectly innocent. If only to set our minds at ease, would you please tell us what happened?"

Except, Roy wouldn't. He wasn't going to start blabbing Edward's business, family or not. If Ed wanted these people to know what had been mistakenly interrupted in a darkened store and then rekindled in the storm driven snow he could tell them himself, so Roy answered without answering at all.

"I can't imagine what might have caused Ed to feel ill at ease; there isn't really anything to tell," Roy said, his demeanor thoughtful. "I showed up at the store, offered Ed a ride. He was being stubborn about it because that's just the way he is, isn't he?" Roy summoned up his most charmingly guileless smile. "The blackout is responsible for convincing Ed that going home was a better idea than spending the night at Pothos." Roy's smile turned apologetic. "It's unfortunate that my car died outside of your building after I dropped him off, but I'm grateful to be allowed into your home."

Al's gaze was sharp as a laser. "Did you kiss him?"

Roy supressed his natural reaction – which would have included his jaw hitting the floor. He couldn't answer that. Instead, he smiled and told the complete truth. "If you're worried, don't be. I am not in the habit of taking advantage. I respect your brother, and he is safe with me."

Winry was still watching him, frown still in place. Then she waved a dismissive hand.

"You talk a good story, Mustang, that's for sure," she grudgingly admitted. "But is that all it is? A story? Hasn't that cop friend of yours dug into Ed's background, and never mind the sealed records? He probably told you all about him."

This girl was disturbingly in the know. "I'm sure my 'cop friend' has checked Ed out, yes," given that Maes was just as protective of Roy as Ed's friends were of him.

"And he didn't tell you?"

He shook his head.

"About his childhood? About what happened to him in his first year at the university?"

Roy shook his head to each question.

"Aren't you curious?" Winry asked.

"I am now," Roy admitted. "But we're just beginning to know each other. There's no rush."

"Why don't I tell you all about it?" Al suggested. "Right now?"

That offer made Roy more uncomfortable than he had been during this whole interrogation. He shook his head. "No thank you." A firm refusal. "I'd rather hear it from Edward if you don't mind, when he decides to share it, if ever." Otherwise it would feel like going behind Ed's back, like breaking a trust.

And there was no way he would do that, no matter how much his curiosity burned for answers.

He pushed those thoughts aside as Winry sat down in the armchair closest to Alphonse. She was wearing an odd smile that Roy had no idea how to interpret.

"Hmm. Evasion. Misdirection. Outright rejection of freely offered information, which is unusual for a journalist. Is it an act? Hard to tell," she muttered under her breath.

Alphonse noticed Roy's slight frown. "Don't mind Winry," he said, amber eyes sparkling. "She thinks out loud sometimes. I'm not sure if it's a bad habit or a good one. Ed thinks it's some weird form of Tourette's Syndrome. I think he's being rude - because that's just the way he is, isn't he?"

Roy didn't miss his own words lobbed back to him.

"So, you're a journalist?" Al probed. "How long have you been doing that?"

Roy's expression tightened. Edward's brother or not, Roy was under no obligation to allow him to go burrowing through his life like it was a ball pit at the local MacDonald's, and especially not this particular part of it.

"Oh, a while." He smiled innocently. "I'm sure Ms. Anonymous here," Roy jerked a thumb toward her, "can scare up the details for you." He turned to her. "It appears that you like to investigate people," he said casually. "Have you been in the _business_ long?"

The emphasis was subtle. It was complete guesswork on Roy's part whether she was involved in anything illegal, but he was willing to gamble. If these two were half as sharp as he thought they were, they would hear what Roy was saying loud and clear.

Back off.

They were, and they did. The girl's smile grew broad, and Alphonse' eyes gleamed, delighted.

"You know, I really think you might be okay, Mr. Mustang," Alphonse said.

Before Roy could respond, the shit hit the fan.

"Hey Al. Do you know where my robe is? It's not hanging up in the-"

Edward had stepped into the living room and froze. His hair was down, and wet. He was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants, black, printed with small, gray medieval helmets, slug low on his hips. He had a towel over one shoulder.

And that was all.

Roy tried to keep his eyes on Edward's. He really did. But his self control failed him, his eyes drawn by the wealth of golden hair tumbled over Ed's strong shoulders. A bead of water shimmered a trail down his muscular upper body –

And wound its way along the thick ridge of scar tissue that coiled across Ed's chest and curved over his right shoulder.

Whatever had caused that twisted, jagged wound had been sharp. It appeared as though something had tried to hack Ed's arm off at the shoulder and had nearly succeeded. Roy continued to track the gleaming bead of water as it slid down, taking note of the twisted knots of further injury low on Edward's midriff, a large, furrowed wound marring the left side of toned and tempered abdominals. Something large had stabbed deeply, and Roy suspected that Edward had been lucky to survive.

"Car accident," Ed said, voice a bit high. "My left leg is a mess too." Roy thought his face looked a little pale.

And Roy suddenly remembered the night he had walked into Pothos to find one of Ed's former classmates attacking him, recalling how he had described Ed, saying that it looked as if Ed had fallen into a meatgrinder.

Followed by, "Who'd want to fuck that?"

Roy's anger blazed all over again, but he pushed it aside. The ball was in his court and he had to take control. The look on Ed's face, resignation mixed with something like hope, was a question that required a clear, unmistakeable answer. But words, however reassuring, would hold little power here. This situation demanded a grand gesture. Roy did the only thing he could think of that might set Edward's mind completely at ease.

He stood up and striped off his sweatshirt.

The burn scar that covered a good portion of the left side of his abdomen and wrapped under his ribs was an ashen stain on pale flesh, thickened and glossy compared to the rest of his skin. Two dime-sized puncture wounds were the puckered focus of the injury, their cause driving the nightmares he still suffered.

"Peace-keeping mission gone wrong," Roy said.

"Oh. Well. If we're making ourselves comfortable," Al said, and pulled off his cap to reveal a completely hairless head. He shrugged, beaming a perfectly cherubic smile. "Chemotherapy and radiation treatments."

That stalled any further talk. As a group, they were all at a loss as to where to take this from here. The only sound in the room was the muted howling of the storm outside the window.

Winry came to the rescue.

"Geez," she huffed. Then she snatched up Roy's shirt from where he'd dropped it and tossed it in his direction. "It's cold in here. Put that back on," she directed. "Ed. Your robe is in the laundry basket. It's clean. Get it." She scowled at Al. "If your hat is uncomfortable, leave it off." She turned to glower at Roy. "Did we really need all this flexin over a bunch of battle scars? I swear, if you had your foreskin bronzed and keep in your wallet, I. Don't. Want. To. Know." She swung around and stomped into the kitchen. "I'm making hot chocolate. Don't anyone try to stop me."

Nobody did.

Roy put on his shirt and sat down.

Ed left the room to fetch his robe and returned tying the belt. Roy kind of wished he hadn't been able to find it. From what he had seen, Edward was _magnificent_.

Alphonse put his hat on the back of the couch.

"I'm really sorry Brother," he said quietly. "We should have let you know that we had company. If I had known your bathrobe wasn't . . ."

"Don't worry about it Al," Ed told him, dropping into the armchair next to Roy's and propping his feet up on the coffee table. "He was bound to see the scars sooner of later."

Al covered his grin with a hand. Ed realized what he'd said and slouched deeper into his chair, pretending he never said it. Roy supressed a smirk. The cat settled into Al's lap to purr contentedly.

It wasn't long before Winry returned with four steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with a heap of spray-bottle whipped cream. She shoved Ed's feet off the coffee table and set down the mugs before flopping into her chair.

She glanced at Roy. "Are you always so extra?"

Roy reached for his mug and thought it over. "Yes." The hot chocolate was perfect, and he said so with a satisfied sigh.

Ed was eyeing Roy and his friend suspiciously. "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

"Not really," Roy admitted. "Your friend confronted me in the parking lot at Pothos about two weeks ago. She gave me the shovel talk in Fat Bastard Burritos."

Winry looked somewhat embarrassed. "Yeah, about that. I may have misjudged you." Then she extended an olive branch. "Winry Rockbell. Pleased to meet you."

"Rockbell?" Lights were coming on about her sources. "Any relation to-"

"My grandmother is Pinako Rockbell."

Not many would be familiar with that name, but those who were would be suitably impressed, and Roy was one of them. Though in her seventies, Pinako Rockbell was a whitehat hacker of legendary prowess. The maverick daughter of an in-house programmer at IBM, she had started her dubious career hacking Ma Bell well before Unix was so much as a gleam in Ritchie's and Thompson's eyes. She was still going strong contracting as a penetration tester for corporations both big and small. Roy's media company had used her on occasion, and their IT department practically worshiped her.

It appeared that her granddaughter was following in her footsteps.

And now Roy was kind of afraid to ask what Alphonse was into. Whatever skillset might balance out a genius physicist and a talented hacker was sure to be terrifying.

Edward certainly had an interesting, if intimidating family.

All things considered, Roy decided that he rather liked them.

"So." Alphonse clasped his hands under his chin. "Why 'Bastard'?"

Or maybe the jury was still out.


	8. Be My Valentine

Roy had lived in this city for most of his adult life, so one would think that he'd be used to capricious weather patterns. It was mid February. Twenty below was a seasonally acceptable mood swing after temperatures hovering just below the zero mark all week. So was a windchill ten degrees colder. And bonus: for the first time in over a week, it wasn't snowing. It was a lovely evening, all thing considered.

Sure it was.

Pushing his car door open and letting himself out into the snow, Roy grimaced as he immediately sank ankle deep into fine powder beneath a crust of ice. He made his way cautiously through the parking lot to the sidewalk. The freshly-plowed walkway was treacherous; the layers of snow had been compressed under the treads of the plow to freeze into a corrugated sheet of dirty ice. Someone definitely needed to throw some salt on that bitch.

As no one was handy to do so, Roy pulled his long coat tighter around him and set out on his slippery way. The wind had picked up, and Roy cursed as he shuffled toward Pothos Boutique, doing his best not to end up on his ass. He made it in one piece and hurried inside.

To discover that someone had gone a little overboard with the decorations.

In keeping with the store's name, the motif was love deities. Although mostly from Greek mythology, there were a number of other cultural references. Thus, erotic illustrations of Pothos, Cupid, and Eros rubbed shoulders – among other things – with Astarte, Anahita, and Min. A vast collection of pink and red paper hearts of varying size were strung from the ceiling, with cardboard cupids liberally mixed in. Every shelf was draped with red lace and pink garlands. Even the Twerking Butt was nestled in a scarlet feather boa inside its protective case.

It was just way too much red. Roy felt as though he had stepped into the bloody aftermath of a killer tomato apocalypse.

And it was busy. This close to closing, Roy had expected few customers, if any. Apparently last-minute sex toy shopping was a Valentine's Day thing. Who could have guessed?

Anichka was the first salesperson Roy spotted. Pothos' manager cut a fine figure in a bright red bodycon that showcased her abundant feminine attributes, not that Roy was looking. Much. It was hard not to. She spotted him the moment he walked through the door and smiled, her arm firmly around the waist of a slim, timid-looking man not much older - or much taller - than Edward.

She motioned for Roy to lock the front door. He did, then scanned the crowded store for the blond focus of his captivation.

Edward was easy to spot. His golden mane was like a beacon despite the younger man's stature. Instead of his usual high tail, tonight he had twined it into a gleaming braid that reached below his shoulder blades. Roy found himself entranced; Ed was more striking than ever, wearing neatly pressed dark slacks and a red knit sweater, probably in anticipation of their after-work date, the thought of which made Roy smile helplessly.

Then he frowned. Ed was currently in the fetish section, engaged with a tall spikey-haired man wearing dark glasses despite the lateness of the hour. The customer was standing far too close to Ed for Roy's comfort, and the shark-toothed grin he was sporting did nothing to allay Roy's suspicions as to the man's intent.

Not that Roy would interfere. The man was a client, this was Edward's job, and Edward was fully capable of taking care of himself.

So instead of stomping over to stake his claim like he really, __really__ wanted to, Roy turned to a beaming Anichka.

"Good evening, Mr. Mustang," she greeted.

"Indeed it is, Ms. Ivanova," he returned with a smile. "I'm here to take Edward out for a late dinner date. It appears you have a date as well."

"Yes," Anichka said, her grin a disturbing match to the one stretched across the face of Ed's customer. "This is, er . . . ?"

"Larry," the shorter man supplied, running a nervous hand through shaggy brown hair. He offered Roy a shy smile, appearing a little dazed.

"Ah yes, Larry," Anichka nodded, giving him a small pat on the hip. "We just met. Larry was feeling down because his girlfriend broke up with him this morning. Since I am currently unattached as well, I suggested that we have dinner together. Larry very graciously agreed."

Roy had far more class than to ask why Larry had originally come into the store. Whatever he had been after, it appeared that he had gotten a hell of a lot more than he'd bargained for.

Berta hurried by with a customer, giving Roy a friendly wave as she passed. Buying coffee for the staff on Boxing Day had certainly put Roy into their good graces. Money well spent, as far as he was concerned.

But on top of that, Roy rather liked Pothos' staff. They were a hard-working, professional bunch, earning minimum wage to do a difficult job, and still managing to keep their sense of humor and collective dignity. There were worse jobs out there, and some might suggest that in the current economy they were lucky to be working at all, but that didn't mean Pothos' employees didn't deserve to be respected – which they often weren't.

Berta had just finished ringing up her customer's purchases and was leading her to the door to let her out when Roy heard Edward say, "I'm not interested, so back off," in an extremely annoyed manner.

Roy finally allowed himself to look.

The spikey-haired man was looming over Edward, slowly spinning a pair of handcuffs around a long finger, disturbing leer firmly in place.

"It's Valentines Day, kid," he countered, low and seductive. "You really don't want to be alone on Valentines Day."

"Whether or not I'm alone, on Valentines Day or any other day, is not your business." Ed's response was a growl. Being referred to as a kid generally had that effect on his voice.

Spikey was not deterred. "I'm not talking business. I'm talking pleasure."

Roy couldn't take any more. He hoped Edward would forgive him.

Strolling over with all the casual grace he could muster, Roy slotted himself in place beside Edward.

"Hello Love," he purred.

"Hello Bastard," Edward returned with a cheeky grin.

Instead of being discouraged, Spikey appeared even more interested. He cocked his head to one side, tipped down his glasses, and gave Roy a long, slow once over. Then he smiled, all teeth.

"Mmmmm," Spikey rumbled, popping up the fur collar of his jacket and rubbing his hands together. "Me, you, and golden boy here," he drawled. "We could go all night. What do you say?"

"How about 'no'?" Ed said testily. "Is it a language thing? __Non, nein, nyet, bù xíng, laa,__ نه, όχι . . ."

"Hold up, kid!" Spikey cut in, earning another growl. "I want to hear what lover boy has to say."

Roy was too busy staring incredulously to answer right away. Spikey probably thought he was giving the proposition serious consideration.

Not a chance in hell.

"No offence," Roy said, fully intending to be offensive, "but I honestly believe that you are in urgent need of a psychological assessment."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Spikey said, grin never wavering. "I think male nymphomaniac would be the correct diagnosis. Or sex addict." He leaned too far into Roy's personal space. "Pick the one that turns you on the most."

Roy held his ground. "You'll have to get your fix somewhere else. We're totally, absolutely, unequivocally not interested."

Anichka had approached from Spikey's rear, and now she spoke up. "Excuse me," she said in her cold business tone. "It is almost closing time. If you would like to purchase something, please do so. Otherwise, have a pleasant evening." The 'elsewhere' was implied.

"Hmm," the customer rubbed his chin, casting his gaze back and forth between Ed and Roy. "There's so much to choose from. I'm having a hard time deciding. I'd like to purchase the whole package."

Everyone in the store, staff and customers alike, pointed to the warning sign behind the counter.

"Aww, I don't mean any harm," Spikey pouted, turning around toward a scowling Anichka.

His eyes latched on. His wolf whistle was low and smooth.

The man tipped his glasses down to run his leer over Anichka from head to toe, lingering here and there, and brought out his smoldering sex voice. "I think I just found something else for my shopping cart. How about it, gorgeous?" he said, then shot a dismissive glance toward Larry. "You can bring the puppy too, if you want. He can watch."

Instead of cringing, as Roy had expected, Larry drew himself up to his full height. Which wasn't comparatively much, but still.

"Asking random people to go to bed with you is rude," he said, voice only wavering a little. "You should have more respect."

That earned Larry some consideration. "Oh my," the taller man said, amused. "The puppy bites. I wonder if he uses his teeth in bed too?"

"Oh my," Larry retuned, not amused at all. "The big dorky guy is never going to find out."

"Big dorky guy?" Spikey feigned being shot through the heart. "That's cold, puppy. I may have to punish you." A speculative eyebrow shot up from behind dark glasses. "I think you'd enjoy a good spanking."

"Look, no one is interested," Edward said, fed up. "Your best bet is to buy something to spend the night with. We have plenty of options. Choose one." He folded his arms across his chest.

Spikey scanned around, meeting everyone's eyes. They all confirmed what Edward had said. He sighed, looking dejected. "Can't blame me for trying," he shrugged. Looking around, he reached out and snatched up a Fleshlight at random. Giving the canister a kiss, he said, "Looks like its just me and me, baby."

Roy felt a bit sorry for him. Not that he'd admit it out loud. Someone this thirsty would probably try to parlay the sentiment into a pity fuck, and that was __not__ going to happen.

Toy paid for, the horny man sauntered out the door, shooting one last leer over his dark glasses at anyone paying attention. Whether or not he was disappointed that nobody noticed went unobserved.

With Spikey out the door, it was business as usual, or at least, as usual as business ever was in a sex shop. Still, it was close to ten o'clock before all the customers had gone and the day's substantial earnings were safely locked up. Pothos staff and their respective dates bid each other good night in the parking lot, and were quickly on their way, Roy and Edward included.

Though their date was beginning later than he had anticipated, Roy didn't really mind. Edward was quiet but appeared content to participate in some easy banter as they drove. It wasn't a terribly long drive to Roy's neighbourhood and the restaurant, and though they were late for their reservation, Roy knew the owners would hold it for him. They were old friends after all.

Valentines Day made for a busy evening in the Beach district, but most evenings were. Though technically not part of the downtown core, Roy's upscale neighbourhood was a popular entertainment destination in the historic sector of the 'old' city. In the summer months thousands of all ages, locals and tourists alike, flocked to the lively and thriving community on the Great Lake's shore, to take a walk on the Boardwalk, relax by the water, or shop and dine at the rich diversity of stores and restaurants along the main thoroughfare. In mid February the Boardwalk was not an option; Roy's favorite restaurant, however, was.

The Rook and Pawn's entryway was neat but unremarkable. An ornately lettered sign posted over a chessboard background hung by the entrance listing the evening's menu. It was the only concession to urban décor. Roy opened the door to smoothly usher Edward out of the cold.

"Good evening, Sir!" Kain Fuery cheerfully greeted them from the small reception counter.

"Indeed, it is, Sergeant," Roy returned. "I'm sorry to be late."

"No apology necessary, Sir," Kain said, signalling for the coat check attendant. "Your table is ready."

Kain lead them through the busy restaurant to a quiet alcove and Roy's usual table, a coiffed champagne bottle already chilling in the ice bucket. Roy cast a questioning look to their maître d', but the restaurant's co-owner didn't notice. He was too busy trying to study Edward without appearing to study Edward at all.

It was to be expected. All of Roy's friends were understandably curious about Edward.

By nature, Roy was a private person. His circle of friends was limited to those who had long travelled with him on the rocky road his life described, the people who had gained his hard-earned trust, who he protected, and who had supported him through it all and beyond. He knew he could depend on them through thick and thin. So of course, those friends wondered about this young man with whom Roy was so enamored.

"Colonel, welcome!"

The Rook and Pawn's head chef approached the table, wiping his hands on his apron. Kain stepped back so his heavy-set, red headed partner could shake hands with his former commander.

"And this must be Edward." The man drew back to give Edward the once over, grinning from ear to ear. Then he offered his hand. Edward took it for a firm shake. "Heymans Breda. Welcome to the Rook and Pawn." He slung a beefy arm around Kain's shoulders and tugged the smaller man in. "Me and Kain, we kind of figured you'd be blond."

"Uh, nice to meet you," Ed said, then gave Roy the side eye. "The 'Colonel' has a type, does he?"

"Not exactly," Kain said, shrugging Breda's arm off. "I mean, it's hard to tell. He doesn't bring his dates here."

"But the only other romantic interest he's ever expressed was for a blonde, so maybe," Breda explained.

Breda and Kain wasted no more time, double teaming to seat their special guests. Roy's table had been set with care, complete with candles and flowers. The Rook and Pawn had definitely gone over and above. Roy raised his eyebrows at Breda, and the ginger grinned back looking enormously smug, proud of the romantic dinner for two he and his partner had arranged. Kain pulled the bottle of champagne out of the ice and displayed it with a professional flair.

"Veuve Clicquot Rosé," Kain stated, accent flawless. "Please have this on the house as a gift from both of us. Happy St. Valentine's Day!" He poured each a glass and settled the bottle back into the ice. "Our head chef," Breda saluted with a smirk, "has prepared a special menu for you. Your appetizer will be out shortly. Now, please enjoy your evening." The two restaurateurs left their guests with a smile.

"Um . . ."

Roy looked over to see Edward staring at the candles and flowers on their table. He chuckled, earning a glare.

"I just reserved a table for two," Roy defended. "Kain and Breda did the rest of their own accord. It is Valentines Day after all." Roy leaned in, admiring how the glow of candlelight burnished Edward's entrancing golden glare. "They're old friends and enjoy pampering me almost as much as they enjoy teasing me. I'm sure you'll find that the food is excellent."

Edward relaxed, his glare softening. "I think it's great, how your friends are, like, trying to make everything romantic and shit."

Actually, Roy thought so too. Not that he'd ever tell them. They were insufferable as it was.

Then Ed smiled, big, and bright, and mischievous. "And I already know how much fun it is to yank your chain."

As promised, Kain soon returned with their appetizer – an apple and almond brie baked in puff pastry, served with fresh granny smith apple slices artfully arranged on the platter. Edward picked up a slice and used it to scoop up some cheese, popping it in his mouth. His eyes drifted closed, and he sighed blissfully.

"Amazing," he murmured.

Roy agreed. And he wasn't referring to the food. He picked up his glass and gave it some thought.

"A toast," he suggested, and Edward picked up his flute as well, raising an eyebrow. "To an amazing start, to what I hope will be an amazing friendship." And hopefully, more.

"And hopefully, more," Edward said, smiling warmly and echoing Roy's thoughts.

"And that is what I find so attractive about you," Roy returned, gathering up his courage. "You are never afraid to say exactly what you mean."

"Well, one of us has to get to the point, Bastard," Edward said with a grin, clinking Roy's glass, then sipping his champagne. "Or maybe I should call you Colonel Bastard. It does have a certain ring to it."

Roy grimaced. "Please don't. I'm trying to break my former subordinates out of the habit of addressing me by my rank; they don't need any encouragement otherwise."

And Roy waited, resigned to answer the inevitable questions that were sure to follow.

Ed opened his mouth.

"Better eat up, Roy," he warned. "With food this good, I won't be held responsible for eating more than my fair share."

Roy reached for a slice of apple and loaded it up with cheese, thoughtful. Then it dawned on him. Edward's friend, Winry, had likely already told him the whole, tragic tale. Ed had seen the scars, just as Roy had seen Ed's, but Edward already knew the story behind the marks on Roy's skin, matched to the ones on his soul.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

But maybe he should let Ed's courage guide him. If Edward could speak his mind without fear, then why shouldn't Roy?

"I suppose Ms. Rockbell told you all about my illustrious military career," he started casually. "Sarcasm intended, of course."

Edward looked up, surprised. "No," he said, frowning. "She offered to tell me what she'd found out about you, but I told her that unless you were a convicted ax murderer or something, I didn't want to know." His infectious grin was back. "I'd rather get to know you the hard way." He nipped off a chunk of his apple slice.

Roy was getting dizzy from this long, swift fall. He hoped he wasn't falling alone. He didn't think he was.

~0~

Light fluffy snow danced in the streetlights when they stepped outside of the restaurant. Roy's arm was itching to settle around Edward's shoulders as they walked to his car, but he held back, not sure how the younger man felt about public displays of affection. He walked more slowly than usual, reluctant to let the evening come to an end, but at the same time he felt an unsettled restlessness. He wanted to make any excuse he could to linger in Edward's company. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask whether Edward would like another coffee.

At Roy's place.

Foolish, of course. They had both been busy lately and had not been out together since Roy's snowstorm rescue mission had resulted in spending the night on Edward's couch. While the searing parking lot kiss they had shared had only whetted his appetite for more, Roy didn't want to push it. They had known each other for less than two months, though it felt much longer. All told, they had been out for coffee a few times, dinner twice counting tonight, had each met some of the other's most zealous protectors, and while the vision of Edward half clothed and dripping wet came alive in Roy's memories late at night, he didn't think that qualified as permission for anything more than perhaps another kiss.

The problem was, as his aunt had been delighted to point out, that Roy wanted this too badly to take a chance on screwing it up.

So. Roy would take it slow.

One of the challenges associated with driving a classic vehicle was the lack of modern conveniences. Remote keyless entry was one. A remote-controlled car starter was another. The first would solve the problem of frozen locks – which Roy took care of by heating his keys up with the lighter he carried for just that purpose. The second would ensure a warm car. Electric seat warmers would have been nice too.

Oh well. Roy still loved his car. The Mustang had other features that far surpassed those of more current modern-day vehicles. It was hard to think of them just then however, with his ass freezing on the cold leather seat.

Judging from his charming grimace, Ed appeared to agree, but opened his door to slip gingerly onto the seat anyway. Roy cranked the key to start the car.

Which immediately stuttered and died.

Oh hell, not this again.

Roy shoved the gearshift into neutral and cranked the key.

Nothing.

He depressed the clutch and tried again.

Nothing.

Roy leaned his head against the steering wheel, then looked sideways over at Edward, who was trying not to smile for some reason.

"I'm sorry Ed," Roy said. "It looks like you'll have to Uber. I'll cover the cost of course."

"Let's share, then," Ed suggested. "I'll wait with you for the tow truck and then we can get a cab or whatever."

"I can call Roadside Assistance from home," Roy explained. "I live two blocks down and around the corner."

And then he gathered his courage again.

"Would you like to come over?" Roy asked. "I have coffee. And almond milk. And a lot of sugar. And a fireplace." And a big, warm bed.

"Do bears generally sleep in the woods?" Edward wondered.

It looked like Roy's baby was playing matchmaker tonight.

Which was how Roy discovered a new reason to love his old car.


End file.
